


Of Dreams and Coldblood Roses

by The_Silver_Souled_Hunter



Series: Identity V/Bloodborne AU [2]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), 第五人格 | Identity V (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24193816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Silver_Souled_Hunter/pseuds/The_Silver_Souled_Hunter
Summary: An embalmer's trip to an ancient city goes horrifically awry when he's dragged into the Hunt. As he gains allies and slices through beast after beast, he finds there isn't much that could keep him from succumbing to the maddening secrets Yharnam hides...
Series: Identity V/Bloodborne AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809616
Kudos: 12





	1. The Beginning of a Nightmare

The air in the clinic was stale with the scent of dust and chemicals. The room was dimly lit, providing a lingering sense of unease. Yet Aesop preferred it to the bustling streets of this sprawling city. Having to attend parties and other people-heavy events was one thing, but the civilians here were quite another.

The trip to the clinic had been absolutely hellish, dodging carriages and people scrambling for the shops and booths. Not helping in the slightest were the glares shot his way, nor the group of drunks shouting “filthy outsider!” at him. It didn't help at all that multiple people were lugging around bottles of what seemed to be blood. Now that he thought about it, those drunkards seemed to have blood staining their filthy visages. Aesop fumbled with the handle of his makeup case. He’d need to prepare a swift exit the minute the funeral was over...

“Mind telling me what brings you here, outsider? ‘Fraid it slipped my mind.” A voice asked. Aesop flinched and snapped his attention to the wheelchair-bound man rolling up to the cot he was sitting on. Straightening his back, Aesop willed himself to face the Blood Minister.

“I’m here on business. When I received word that a family needed their daughter embalmed and a funeral prepared, I arrived as soon as I could.” He said. The man grinned, reveling cracked and yellowed teeth. That combined with his pale flesh, dangling eyeball, and otherwise ragged appearance made him look like a moving corpse.

“I see. Well, I think it’s best if you take a little Yharnam blood first. You never know what could happen out there,” he said. “But first you’ll need a contract.” With a wrinkly hand, he gave Aesop a sheet of paper and a pen. He sighed and skimmed over the terms. Swiftly signing in a few places, he handed it back as politely as possible. The Blood Minister folded the contract and slipped it into an envelope.

“Good. All signed and sealed. Let’s begin the transfusion.” He said. Before Aesop could protest, he was pushed back onto the cot. It was little more than a metal bed with a pitifully thin sheet covering it. “Oh, don’t you worry. Whatever happens, you may think it all a mere bad dream!” the Minister exclaimed.

Aesop shuddered as his sleeve was rolled up, an IV being inserted a moment later. A blood transfusion? When had he agreed to that?! He didn’t get a chance to fight back before light-headedness struck him. As his vision blurred, he was vaguely aware of the Blood Minister giving a wheezy cackle before his world turned dark.

The embalmer awoke in a cold sweat. There was a stinging pain in his arm, and his body was paralyzed from the shoulders down. He turned his head to the side, but before he could cry out for help, a horrid sight greeted him. A mangy, dripping beast emerging from a massive pool of blood. Its torn lips curled back in a snarl, a rumbling growl crawling up from its throat.

Aesop was powerless to do anything as the wolf leisurely lumbered towards him, almost as if relishing his growing fear. His heart threatened to beat its way through his ribcage at the sight of the horrid monster reaching for him, claws bent as if beckoning him. Just as it was about to claw his face open, it suddenly burst into flames. Aesop immediately turned away from the beast as it shrieked and collapsed. He was ready to squeeze his eyes shut and will himself back to sleep when something crawled up his side.

Aesop’s blood froze at the sight of a pale, emaciated creature climbing onto him. More of the tiny monstrosities crawled up his immobile form, a few of them hovering over his face. Their faint puffs of breath drew a choked whimper from the embalmer. Mercifully, he fell back into unconsciousness only a few moments later. Before he faded away, a gentle voice reached his mind.

“Ah, you’ve found yourselves a hunter.”


	2. Welcome to Yharnam

Aesop awoke with another chill. He was able to move again, but there was no sign of the bloodied beast or the dead-looking creatures. He slid off of the cot and grabbed his makeup case. To hell with this. He could find his client on his own. Aesop was ready to storm out of the clinic when a sheet of paper caught his eye. Picking it up, he found that it was a note most likely left by the Blood Minister.

“Seek Paleblood to transcend the hunt.” It read. The embalmer swiftly tossed it away. He’d sooner drink bromide than do whatever that entailed. Pushing open the door, he tromped down the stars and turned into the sickroom.

A horrid sound hit his ears. The sound of flesh being torn and crunching ligaments. Aesop tentatively tip-toed closer to the source. There in the middle of the room, feasting on a small pile of corpses, was a wolf-like beast. It looked almost identical to the one from his nightmare. A gasp escaped him at the sight. He prayed that the monster hadn’t heard him, but that prayer was swiftly killed when it turned to him.

The beast gulped down a scrap of sinew and snarled at him. Aesop once again found himself immobilized before the monster. He could only watch with wide eyes as it reared back to lunge at him. Aesop squeezed his eyes shut, anticipating the fangs sinking into his flesh and ripping him to pieces. 

Warm blood splattered across him, but it wasn’t his own. He tentatively took a peek and found the beast lying dead mere inches away from him. Standing behind it was a young man wielding an odd morning star and a blunderbuss. He had messy brown hair tied back in a ponytail and an unsightly gash where his left eye should have been. He grinned at Aesop, revealing rather sharp canines.

“Sorry about that, stranger. I would have used a cleaner approach, but I didn’t want to see you get eaten up!” he said. Aesop’s voice refused to respond, his gaze flicking between the man and the dead beast. The bloody man shrugged and held out his hand. “Where are my manners? Name’s Luca Balsa, hunter of the League!” he exclaimed. Aesop glanced at Luca’s hand before hesitantly taking it and giving a firm shake.

“Aesop Carl, embalmer.” He replied. Luca broke into a wide grin and began pulling him towards the door. The embalmer nearly tripped over his feet, both from the force and the blood-soaked floor. "What do you think you're doing? Let me go!" he shouted.

“I had a feeling you were an outsider! You won’t last a second without any equipment!” he said. Aesop hissed and tried to pull away, but Luca’s grip was too strong. He nearly tripped over his feet as he was all but dragged out of the clinic by the hunter. Soon after they entered the courtyard out front, Luca finally let him go.

Aesop rubbed his wrist and scowled at the mysterious hunter. His glare went unnoticed while Luca searched around a grave. He returned with a few bullets and vials of blood, half of which he handed to the embalmer.

“A lot of hunters will use blood for healing and quicksilver bullets. You’ll want some on you at all times, but for now you should probably stick by me.” He said. Aesop nodded and reluctantly followed him out of the courtyard. The second they stepped into Central Yharnam, he was smacked by the scent of smoke and rotting flesh. He was used to dead bodies, even preferring them over living people, but this was too much.

A man in ragged clothing limped towards them, holding up a torch while dragging an axe along the cobblestones. Aesop recognized him as one of the drunks who’d been harassing him earlier. He was still soaked in blood, but now it drenched his clothes as well. The moment he spotted them, the Yharnamite gave an infuriated yell and charged.

“You’re better off dead!” he screamed. He rose his axe over his head, but didn’t get a chance to strike before Luca swung his weapon and caved his skull in. He flicked the blood and brain matter off of it before continuing forward as if he hadn’t just killed a man. Aesop took a deep breath and followed close behind Luca until they reached a ladder.

Aesop bit back a groan as he started to climb. His gloves and shoes were still slick with blood, forcing him to focus on the ascent. About halfway up the ladder, an earsplitting screech sounded in the distance. He froze in place as it echoed throughout the area. It was completely inhuman, sending chills up and down his spine. Upon hearing Luca pick up the pace, he all but scrambled the rest of the way upward.

Once at the top, he was given only a minute to catch his breath before Luca took his hand. He immediately yanked it back, glaring daggers at the hunter.

“I’m not taking another step until you tell me where the hell we’re going!” he hissed. Luca shrunk back with a weak chuckle. He rubbed the back of his neck as Aesop’s glare intensified.

“Oh, how could I forget? We’re going to see a good friend of mine! He’s an old hunter, so he’s bound to have some gear for you!” he said. The embalmer shook his head and stepped up to his side. By this point he had little choice but to trust a complete stranger. If this friend would keep him from meeting a gruesome fate, so be it. As he trekked further into the city with Luca, he could have sworn they were being watched…

Naib scowled at the two men leaving his field of vision. He was all too familiar with Luca, but the silver-haired one was new. Covered in blood, yet seemingly unharmed. He grunted as he leapt down from his perch and stalked down the street. He’d seen it too many times now. Foreigners come in without realizing how hostile the place is, end up sprawled across the street half-eaten or with their organs torn from their abdomen…

“Is something troubling you, lad?” Naib snapped his attention to another hunter in a black church attire leaning against an abandoned carriage. He easily towered over him and held an axe that could crush his spine. This didn’t stop Naib from growling and elbowing him in the ribs.

“God damnit, Father! How many times have I said I’d gut you if you kept doing that?!” he snarled. Father Gascoigne chuckled and kneeled until he was at eye level with the young hunter. Not that Naib could see much past the bandages wrapped around Gascoigne’s eyes.

“Tough words for such a little hunter. Now are you going to talk or do I have to wrestle it out of ya?” he asked. Naib took a deep breath. Winning a wrestling match against Gascoigne was nearly impossible. He’d be pinned down and spilling his guts in less than two minutes.

“There’s a new face running around with Balsa. I’m not sure if he’ll make it through the night.” He said. Naib turned and began walking away. Much to his dismay, the priest stood up and followed him.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you being this cynical before, lad! Is the hunt wearing ya down?” he exclaimed. The hunter had to bite his tongue to keep himself from insulting Gascoigne. Why did he need to ask so many questions? Naib stepped into a narrow street, silently hoping he could shake him off his trail.

“You know how it is, Father. Time and time again people have waltzed on into Yharnam and ended up either dead or mad within a few months at the absolute best. And that’s without mentioning the hunters. Most of them meet the same fate and end up becoming prey for Eileen, and me on occasion.” He said.

Gascoigne could only nod at Naib’s statement. The past few nights had been miserable ones. Already they’d lost a fair amount of hunters to the mobs, beasts, and other such fiends. A sudden chill ran down his spine as he glanced around. The alley was brimming with mist, and a sound killed his thoughts entirely. It was a soft humming, steadily approaching. He lunged and grabbed Naib by the collar of his coat.

Naib yelped as he was yanked back. Bloodied, iron claws swept down, missing his face by an inch. His heart pounded as he briefly glimpsed the monster’s bloodstained mask, glowing red eyes piercing into him. It was gone a moment later, vanished into the fog. He was practically dragged out into the relative safety of the open street.

Naib collapsed onto the ground and gasped, his mind reeling. How could he have been so stupid?! He’d just walked right into the Ripper’s element! Naib sucked in a breath through his teeth as a lump formed in his throat. If Father Gascoigne hadn’t been there…

“Shh, Naib, calm down. It’s alright, son,” Gascoigne murmured, gently tousling his hair. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll ask Henryk what’s going on. Knowing Luca, he’s probably running to him right this moment.” Naib rubbed his temples and took a deep breath.

“Sounds good. I just…I just need to take a walk.” He said. Gascoigne gave him a gentle smile and helped him to his feet.

“Very well. Just stay away from the alleyways, got it?” he said. Naib gave a tired grin and tipped his hat before making his way down the street, mercifully free of beasts and huntsmen. Gascoigne turned his gaze to the sky and sighed. He had plenty of time that night to find Henryk. Yet his mind lingered on that supposed new hunter, wondering if Naib’s concerns held some water. Hopefully this one wouldn’t fall too quickly…


End file.
